


nothing comes from nothing

by tencentsforadance



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, coda 4x07, have u accepted mickey milkovich as ur lord and savior, just indulge me ok bye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tencentsforadance/pseuds/tencentsforadance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's going to be gone soon/i know/what do we do?/enjoy it</p><p>coda to 4x07</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing comes from nothing

Mickey loves Ian, what fucking ever. Not like it’s hard, okay, the kid looks like a kicked puppy all the goddamn time, he thinks you’d have to be heartless not to feel something when you look at him. It’s not his fault when his heart lurches and his blood rushes to his face instead of his dick, fuck when did that happen, and then he’s breathing hard and loud and and and.

So, okay, yeah, he loves Ian but shit if he can even admit that he knows him, even to Mandy or fuckin’ Lip.

But when Ian’s just lying there on his bed looking all crumpled and sad, Mickey can’t even fucking deny it. Knows he loves this dumb ass kid and knows he’s stuck with him. It’s nice how the bullshit and panic clears out for a second and Mickey can fucking breath for the first time in months, giving him tunnel vision, just _Ian Ian Ian._ He’s chain smoking by the bed, fingers itching to touch. He barely remembers getting in the car or how he got Ian into his bed, all he can remember is manipulating a head into his lap and bringing Ian’s arms around his neck as he lugged him up the front porch but he wants more now, he wants it all.

So, yeah, Mickey’s a fucking sap staring at Ian like he’s God’s gift, noticing the purple smudges underneath his eyes, the way he’s curled himself up into a little ball now and shit. Shit. He wants to cook the kid a real meal, make sure he’s fed and warm and safe, god fucking damn it.  Ian shivers and Mickey doesn’t even think about it, just grabs the blanket at his feet and wraps it around him. It’s like loving someone makes him an actual human being for point two seconds.

He knows he doesn't deserve- to touch or whatever, Mandy’s voice echoing in his head, _you know it’s your fault, right?_ But when isn't shit his fault and it’s already bad enough he’s tucking the blanket around this kid like he’s his fucking mom or something. But here he is cupping his hand around the back of Ian’s neck, all weird and possessive and- and affectionate. It’s not even fucking sexual, it’s just nice, Mickey on his knees right next to the bed, Ian’s neck warm and reminding him that he’s alive, his pulse thrumming right underneath Mickey’s thumb. His mom used to do it when he was sick. Ian once did the same gesture when Mickey was so hungover, head hanging over the toilet, he couldn't be bothered to tell him to cut that shit out.

But it’s fucked, it’s always fucked, and there’s Ian’s eyes fluttering open, and Mickey wants to throw up and take his hand away but it’s just. It’s just really. Intense, everything’s so intense. Everything to do with Ian feels catastrophic and important, like he needs to savor every word and touch. Ian’s eyes have opened up enough and he seems to know what’s going on and Mickey sucks a in a breath between his teeth, everything in his system telling him to abort the fucking mission. But they’re looking at each other and Mickey tries to move his hand, he really does, but instead all he can do is look hopelessly at this dumbass kid who he can’t quit. Can’t fucking quit, can’t stop staring. He tries to move and he whispers a soft, “Hey,” instead.

His brain is starting to catch up and he’s finally starting to move away but shit he doesn’t know when he got so close to Gallagher’s face and then there’s a hand wrapped around his wrist and another in the back of his neck pulling him back in close. It’s not comfortable at all but something tender kind of flashes in Ian’s eyes and it’s the first real thing he’s seen in the kid since he saw him gyrating on some dude. Closes his eyes and breathes, smells the alcohol on Ian’s breath and decides: Fuck it. He leans in and there’s soft skin meeting his lips and it’s always those fucking Gallagher’s.

            Kissing Ian, even just the faintest pressure of Ian’s lips on his brings up all sorts of shit and it’s all he can do, all he can remember.

Remember his mom who put a pistol to her head and used to call Mickey her sweet boy, how Mandy used to be locked into Terry’s room for hours and Mickey never questioned it. Remembers realizing what it meant and started screaming and yelling, blowing up, until Terry knocked him out cold. Remembers when everything started to just become a sea of bullshit and Ian Gallagher just gliding on in his bedroom, deciding to shit on top of Mickey’s life, deciding to make Mickey love him. He remembers fucking in the backseat of some random car, remembers sneaking into a Bear’s game and blowing Ian in the bathroom, getting drunk out in the baseball field, saying sorry in abandoned buildings, Mickey’s hands forming a fist and slamming against Ian’s face.

It’s whatever, barely even counts as a kiss anyway. He pulls back and looks at Gallagher and whatever tenderness had been there before, whatever Ian had been there before, is gone and replaced with a drugged out haze and the stench of booze is stronger now. Ian slurs, “C’mon,” impatient, but his eyes are already closing again. He probably won’t even remember this in the morning.

Mickey wants to curl himself around Ian, just for the night, but he’s already done too much tonight. He’s tired. He readjusts himself in the chair, leaning back, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling.

Everything to do with Ian always feels cataclysmic, apocalyptic style, like find those you love and hide, real Day After Tomorrow shit. Mickey's still going to count freckles and remember shit Gallagher says to him and not think about holding Gallagher's hand. He eyes Ian's hand, hanging off the side of the bed. Mickey closes his eyes and reaches for it. 

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me a did a good job or leave me criticism, lmk if this is garbage  
> idk what this is really it's just sitting in my drafts  
> title from prom song by surfer blood  
> i'm tencentsforadance.tumblr.com  
> okay


End file.
